


Lydia

by ziyazu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Choose your own ship, F/F, Lazy Sunny Sex, Lydia Is Generally Amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziyazu/pseuds/ziyazu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She moves up and perches atop you, naked breasts light in the afternoon air, smooth thighs silken on your hips as her knees brush against your ribs. She leans over you again, smiling smug and sincere all in a wash, licking her lips delicately, her hair tumbling around your face. You look up to see the sunlight filtering through it, red-gold glow a perfect cage, surrounding you, trapping you here, tendrils handing like shimmering bars, layers and ringlets and tangles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lydia

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Lydia-centric piece - she's the only one described. Her partner, while female, never identifies themselves. Imagine whoever you'd like.
> 
> NOTE: Most of the female characters we're familiar with in Beacon Hills are underage as per California laws regarding the age of sexual consent. Canonically, Lydia and Erica are 16 and Allison and Cora are 17, though - ages that many other states consider perfectly legal. I've marked the fic as Underage, but take it as you will.

She moves up and perches atop you, naked breasts light in the afternoon air, smooth thighs silken on your hips as her knees brush against your ribs. She leans over you again, smiling smug and sincere all in a wash, licking her lips delicately, her hair tumbling around your face. You look up to see the sunlight filtering through it, red-gold glow a perfect cage, surrounding you, trapping you here, tendrils handing like shimmering bars, layers and ringlets and tangles.

It's not a cage, you think as you gulp in air, still breathing deep, sweat cooling on your chest, your cheekbones. You know cages; you've been in them. You know what it is to be in a cage, and you know how sweet freedom tastes. As she bends to kiss you, she may taste like you, but you think she mostly just tastes like home.

That sunlight hits her eyes as she tosses her hair to the side, still curled over you, looming above in a way that shouldn't be so effortlessly lovely, you think, her neck gleaming in a white arc, her arms strongly braced by your shoulders. You blink, and the dazzling red curls sway, bob gently as she shakes her head at you.

Your know your face is still dazed, and you want to remember how her nose feels, pressed into your cheek, so you tug her down again, bury your face in her neck, smell the soft smell of her. She lets you, but her fingers brush your arms after a moment, pushing herself upright again, so she's sat back against your hips, palms on your stomach, face shining honey-sweet with a smile. Your hands run over hers of their own accord, move to cup her small hipbones, and she curls her head to the side, eyes watching your face, your lips, your eyes. Your thumbs on her stomach, brushing up her ribs, become the backs of your fingers offering a caress to the underside of her breasts, and she closes her eyes and throws her head back, her mouth opening in a soft laugh, sharp teeth biting at her lip.

You know what she's asking for and you lower a hand, reach below, make her gasp, make her jerk and cry out softly, squirming against you as you sit up yourself, kiss her neck, feel her fingers grip your arms tighter, tighter.

Her hair cascades around your vision again as she rests her forehead against yours, as you hide your face behind her ear, forming that cage you never want to escape from. She hums, low in her throat, as your free hand moves to smooth up and down her back, fingers swimming in curls like you are drowning in them.

When you tilt her over, lay her down, meander your way down her body, they splay out around her, frame her bright face gone drunk with joy, heavy-lidded eyes the centre of a wild copper sun.


End file.
